Like so many hosts
swirling to the ground,
Like so many souls
returning earthen-bound,
The gravity of
thought at an instant soothed away,
A soft sweet song
sighs forth inside,
The lost child finds
his way,
From out the bitter
darkness,
A swirling sweep, wisp, whispers,
Softly sent
to say,
That miracles can happen,
At any time of day.
© Stephen Evans 2013
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